


(Old Sparrow) I’ll Bury me Here

by Kas_tiel



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Canonical Character Death, Damon Salvatore tries, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Introspection, I’m so sorry, Mentioned Caroline Forbes, Mentioned Damon Salvatore, Mentioned Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore Deserved Better, Stefan Salvatore whump, Stefan Salvatore-centric, but kinda fails???, copious use of italics, how is that not a tag?, i don’t know what i’m doing, oh my god that just made me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24864043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kas_tiel/pseuds/Kas_tiel
Summary: Under the dampness of earth and rock, he closes his eyes, and he remembers names.(Or: Stefan Salvatore dies for all the right reasons).
Kudos: 5





	(Old Sparrow) I’ll Bury me Here

**Author's Note:**

> Right. Hello, frens! I totally did not shed a couple of tears writing this. 
> 
> Okay.
> 
> Stefan Salvatore is the most human character of a tv show I’ve seen in a long, long, long time, right up there with the likes of Sam Winchester. All the mistakes he made were because of his denial and rebellion against what he was SUPPOSED to be, which simply proves him- as I said- human. He is intricate and beautiful and yes, he deserved better, and I get Sad™️ if I think about that for too long.
> 
> This fic was an attempt to delve into his mind during his last moments, a little character study-ish introspection thing, if you will. I apologise if you- like me- are in denial, and this stirs up pain.
> 
> I hope you like it, and if you wanna scream about Stefan in the comments pLeAsE feel free to.
> 
> ( I don’t own TVD, only the ideas below.  
> Title inspired by Keaton Henson’s new song Ontario.)

Death did not hurt.

Death did not hurt, and this is a fact that Stefan had learnt over a hundred years before, lying on patchy grass with blood his armor and a brother's labored breathing beside him, mind racing and trepidation a blanket, but no pain with what should have been perpetual sleep- do you understand? Death, itself, did not hurt.

It's what he hangs onto underground, Katherine Pierce in his arms (damned to hell, he knows; perpetrator of death and disquiet, machiavellian Queen-God who had paved the way for _his_ sins, _his_ victims- _oh, how wishes to believe_ \- and yet, still, a quiet comfort). It's the thought he carries as he scripts his goodbyes, because he is old enough to know that the unsaid could stand as a strong enough force to haunt the already-dead, and he (in some twisted way) is young enough still to fear that particular idea of haunting.

Understand this: _ghosts_ do not induce fear in Stefan, for he knows that he is one himself, in a way. Comfort denied, however- _and here, all he can think is big brother (friend, brother, better father than Father) absent at Mother's funeral and betrayal, abandonment, fear\- _ strikes in him a chord of unsaid disgust. Words were owed.

(Words, therefore, as soon as he saw her- brown hair and deeper eyes both _too much_ and _not enough_ like the woman he had perished with- he said.)

Stefan _knows_ his death was a long time coming, that he is dying after experiencing a life longer than the one he had been destined for, no doubt striking relief and triumph in the hearts of all the godly scriptures that had long since bet against his existence- _vampires were wrought from the unbelief of Satan_ , some of his own kind said. Others, that it was a _gift_ (and even seconds away from the permanence of unbeing, the thought of his life having been a _gift_ threatens a laugh of manic hilarity).

Scripture?

Scripture simply named vampires unreal.

( _And what a life of unreality it had been for him, battling insatiable hunger for the better part of his existence, ripping lives apart the moment he gave in, genuflecting to anathematic existence and shattering all allusions of his own humanity - the allusions he cradled inside the darkest corners of his mind and heart- on the nights after the bloodiest ones, as if regret could make itself adequate patchwork and stitch itself over the cravings; Stefan was Ripper for the better part of his existence, and was that not a hand of cruelty played by the stars? Was that not naïve illusion of celestial compassion shattered?_)

Under the dampness of earth and rock, Stefan acknowledges that his death was a long time coming, and he knows who he was in the time that he stole ( _Creature of Frankenstein, cursed being wandering Earth and seeking humanity- seeking absolution- and knowing he could never be simply good, knowing he was unnatural, a mockery of existence, knowing he would not ever live only kind as it was not in his nature_), so he closes his eyes, and he remembers names.

He remembers first those etched onto walls hidden behind bookcases, bed frames, sometimes under floorboards. Screams and pleas, tears and apologies and offers of amendment dominate his mind and, for a moment, it is too much, and after seconds he stops.

Stefan Salvatore knows he was a ripper, _yes_. A murderer and a liar, _yes_. For the better part of his life, a cold blooded psychopath, _yes,_ yet the realisation hits him that he has also tried to be _good_ , and as he feels the heat of the fire come closer, and as he feels the burn from the flame and Katherine’s nails digging into his hands, he thinks nothing but the fact that, in these last moments, _his self-deprecation could go to hell._

Unwittingly, (because, perhaps, _just once_ , he wants to feel epic), there comes to mind those that he had saved (not because he _could_ \- Stefan Salvatore had never simply _found_ the strength to save, to reject the staccato call of blood in his ears- but because he was _taught_ to, and because he _allowed_ himself to). Stefan thinks of the war he had fought in, of the friends he lost and sat with, and he thinks of his friends, of his eternal Elena, of kind Bonnie and of sweet, wonderful Caroline. He thinks of Damon, unapproachable and complicated and perfect savior, quiet protector in his own right. He thinks of the things he gave to his makeshift family, his _humanity_ and his _heart_ and now- was this not fitting end to his story, him painted tragic saviour yet left without the perfect ending?- his _life_ , theirs and only theirs.

Living, you see, held no point without his brother.

(His brother, the man who did up his bow-ties after his mother’s death, the man who promised to kill him but _never_ let anyone get the job done, the man who found him, _time and time again_ , and wiped the blood from his hands and mouth even after dangling temptation, trying to _fix_ him the only way he knew how- Stefan _knows_ that Damon is the only one who _knows him_ , truly. The only one who stood by him having witnessed all that he had done in the past, the only one who’d saved him just as much as he’d been damned, and so he couldn’t stand by and let him die, _he couldn’t let his big brother die.)_

(And, thinking about it clearly, it was _about damn time_ the younger brother did the saving, anyways.)

Doing it of his own accord and for the right reasons makes death feel different, Stefan realises. It did not hold unbearable pain the first time, nor does it now, but there is less regret, less wish to live longer and a little more hope that it _mattered_ , more hope that his actions stood enough.

(And, the second time around, there is more thought to those he is leaving behind- _not_ , this time, a cold-blooded father, but a _brother_ and a _wife_ and so many reasons in the form of _family_ and _love_ , and it is scary, and he feels no regret, but as he thinks of them, before he is charred skin and bones and heart, there is raw, bleeding pain in the deepest parts of his heart).

Death, Stefan knows and can attest, does not hurt.

Dying does.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it.
> 
> I hope you didn’t hate it too much? Seriously, lemme know your honest thoughts below, and maybe we could even just freak out over Stefan as a person and character.
> 
> Stay safe, my pineapples.


End file.
